


Crimson and Clover

by XnovellaX



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Farmfell, Bara Sans (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), F/M, Fluff and Smut, Inexperienced Reader, Long Shot, One Shot, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader-Insert, References to Drugs, Seduction, Smut, Soulmates, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28173651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XnovellaX/pseuds/XnovellaX
Summary: The countryside of the Sierra Nevada mountain range is absolutely breathtaking.  Many areas remain undeveloped, remote.  But that’s exactly why you came here - to disconnect, unwind, find adventure and explore the abundant, unique natural beauty of this special region.However, when you discover a vast meadow of  mysterious golden flowers, you might end up finding a bit more adventure than you bargained for.***A one shot/long shot with my own interpretation of CuddlyQuiche's Basil from their Undertale AU, Farmfell.  Please check out their works.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 114





	Crimson and Clover

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, now I don't hardly know her  
> But I think I could love her  
> Crimson and clover   
>    
> Ah, when she comes walking over  
> Now I've been waitin' to show her  
> Crimson and clover, over and over  
>    
> Yeah, my my, such a sweet thing  
> I wanna do everything  
> What a beautiful feeling  
> Crimson and clover, over and over   
>    
> \- Tommy James

The countryside of the Sierra Nevada mountain range is absolutely breathtaking. So far over the last two weeks you’ve visited Lake Tahoe with its luxurious yet asperous dichotomy of pricy resorts and rustic terrain, explored Yosemite with its surreal Glacier Point and waterfalls, hiked through the Mariposa grove of massive sequoias and discovered haunting abandoned settlements, hollow timber buildings that dot the postcard perfect landscape, relics of the gold rush and a time when the region was booming with activity. These days there’s mostly small towns and wineries, campers and skiers, much of the population so near the Nevada border comprised of transient seasonal tourists. Many areas remain undeveloped, remote. But that’s exactly why you came here - to disconnect, unwind, find adventure and explore the abundant, unique natural beauty of this special region. 

Today your whimsical goal is to seek out wildflowers, as it’s mid-June and from your research, a prime season for blooms. You’ve already seen bright swaths of magenta _owl’s clover_ and canary yellow _goldfield_ thickly blanketing the foothills, tall spires of _indigo lupines_ edging Lake Tahoe and smatterings of vermillion _giant red paintbrush_ along the roadside. What you’d really like to find is a rare riparian meadow with a diverse botanic tapestry, and so after a no-frills breakfast of two granola bars and stale leftover gas station coffee from the day before you break down camp, pack up your rental van and head east toward the Sierra National Forest with that goal in mind. There’s a place down there called Fish Slough that’s one big seasonal flood basin, which promises to have what you’re seeking, if your USDA guidebook and online pics are anything to go by.

The hundred mile drive or so is just as gorgeous as every other you’ve been on during this trip - rugged snow capped peaks surrounding sagebrush foothills, tall stands of delicate quaking aspens among Ponderosa pines, tufts of aureate blooming _chamisa_ bushes. It takes you way longer than usual to make the trek because you have to keep stopping every ten minutes to take pics of the irresistible, dramatic landscape, going at a snail’s pace but not minding in the slightest. This is precisely the kind of laid back, carefree pace you’ve craved for absolute ages, and it’s not like you’re holding up traffic. On the contrary, you haven’t seen more than two cars pass by the entire morning.

It’s definitely worth it to divert off Highway 395 to take the back way through East Mono Basin and Benton toward Bishop, along Highway 6. About halfway to the tiny town there’s a cluster of farms along the road, verdant green hayfields a stark contrast against the dusky tans and browns of the surrounding natural stones and soil. And then, just as you come to the tail end of the farmland, off toward the west you see something truly spectacular - a massive sea of bright, dense golden yellow, stretching out all the way to the foothills!

You take the next right onto a gravel road that appears to border the flower field, the closest edge of which you estimate to be about a mile away. There’s not another vehicle in sight now, a welcome change from the ever-busy Lake Tahoe and Yosemite areas. This is backcountry, where locals eke out an honest living in their small communities without such heavy reliance on tourist dollars. It reminds you a little of where you grew up, a one stoplight, _‘drive too fast and you’ll miss it’_ sort of town off the interstate, though the flora and dramatic mountains here are quite different from the endless flat fields of corn and beans you’re used to.

Within minutes you’re at the meadow edge, and the sheer vastness of it all makes you gasp in awe. You slow down just in time to spot an open service road that cuts through the field, nothing more than a dirt two track and you excitedly take it, marveling at the wispy little blooming plants no more than a scarce two or three feet high, each covered in many small roundish blossoms. After driving very slowly for a ways you come to a stop, eager to identify the plants with your guidebook. Giddy and beaming, you grab the guide and step out of the van, breathe in the grassy, green smelling fresh air tinged with that inexplicable scent of summer sunshine heat. Upon closer inspection the flowers are cinquefoil, five rounded petals surrounding a tiny anther tuft. The composition is similar in shape to _dogrose,_ a plant you’re familiar with. Stooping down for a better look at the feathered leaves, you flip through the booklet to the yellow section, for the color of the flowers. But after a good five minutes of skimming, you don’t find anything quite like these mystery blooms.

Now that you think about it, this field is bordered in sections with ancient-looking, hand hewn wooden fences, and the surrounding land is irrigated for farming. _Is this actually some sort of crop?_ It’s definitely not canola - though the same brilliant gold color, canola is taller and has spike clusters of four petaled blooms. This field vividly reminds you of those oil farms near your hometown, beautiful to behold but resented by staple crop farmers who complained about seed contamination and pesticide overspray resulting from sloppy profit-driven growers who weren’t like the longtime locals committed to the king and queen of corn and soy. 

With a sigh you stand up straight and snap the booklet closed, curiosity annoyingly unsatisfied, wondering if you have cell service way out here so you can try to identify the knee high flowers surrounding you. But for now a drink of water is in order, as it’s getting close to noon and stifling heat is starting to wash over the land. You know by 3:00 PM it’ll be blazing hot, far less atmosphere present at this altitude to mute the sun’s relentless radiation.

You pop open the camper van, toss the guidebook onto the passenger seat and snag the lukewarm bottle of water from the center cup holder, take a long pull before replacing it and grabbing your phone. The translucent screen dimly illuminates in response to detecting your soul, and of course, there’s no web service way out here, not even satellite link. It’s a total dead zone, save for making calls.

Still, even without the internet, you can at least snap some amazing pics of the fields and a few flower close-ups for later reference. You bring up the camera function with a thought, phone reading your willed intent via magic, gaze through at the magnificent view and begin taking a panoramic shot, slowly sweeping the scene from left to right - 

\- and nearly drop your phone when you spot a tall figure standing on the two track road up ahead, not thirty feet away. You quickly stash the phone in your back pocket and just stare at them dumbly, eyes wide and breath hitched, frozen on the spot like a deer caught in headlights. 

That person is _not small._ They are very big, in fact, and broad shouldered, and _incredibly intimidating_ in size.

Suddenly the realization hits that if these fields are indeed cultivated, then they’re owned by someone, and you’re actually trespassing on private property.

Big guy over there is probably said owner of these fields.

_Welp...fuck._

“Uh - sorry!” you call out in a strained, nervous voice over the gusting breeze, holding your hands up in a universal sign of _no harm intended, truce, surrender._ But the figure takes several lumbering steps forward, kicking up dust with each heavy bootfall, and after just a few seconds the sheer size of them really hits home. Instinctively you back away and shrink into yourself, but your backside hits the van grill and when you look up again the stranger is suddenly standing right in front of you, peering down from their towering height, face shaded by a beaten up old straw hat, the blinding white sun directly behind their head preventing you from clearly seeing their features until you shade your eyes with a hand and squint...

Your heart nearly explodes with anxiety at the sight of them.

_He is the scariest looking monsterfolk I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life!_

It’s like you’re gazing into the visage of death, the Grim Reaper himself. Except death is smiling wide at you with a mouth full of big shark teeth, one of which glints bright metallic silver in the sunlight.

The razor zigzag maw parts, and quiet words come out.

“heya, li’l mouse. ya lost?”

His voice is so deep, a sonorous baritone that only adds to his incredible intimidation factor. A spoken reply catches in the lump now blocking your throat but you manage to shake your head _no_ instead. The resultant chuckle from the stranger before you is dark, sending a tingle up your spine.

“so jus’ trespassin’, then,” he growls, and you shrink down another few inches, the weight of his presence overwhelming.

“I - I ah - “

_Christ, get it together!_

You clear your throat and try again. “I didn’t mean to, sir, honestly. I was just looking for wildflowers and saw this meadow…” You weakly gesture at the flowers with a trembling hand, unable to make eye contact. “I didn’t think it was...a crop…” Your watery voice trails off, feeling pathetic and like you’re making up excuses, even though you’re not.

“hmm, that so...”

His shadow overtakes you, him leaning down slightly, which makes you feel tenfold more uncomfortable, icy fear clutching your chest. There are plenty of monsterfolk who don’t like humans, and vice versa, animosity between the races still alive and well even in modern day American society. 

Maybe this monsterfolk doesn’t like humans. Maybe he’s thinking of all the ways he could make you disappear for trespassing on his property.

This situation is now starting to feel very, very dangerous.

“when’s the last time ya had a shower, kid?”

_**…** _

_Wait, what?_

You blink a few times and chance a confused glance up at him, the strange question taking a moment to sink into your panicked brain. There are wide, black sockets in his head instead of eyes, each punctuated by a small, neon green, oval light that bores into the very center of your being, as if judging you, searching you for something inexplicable. He has no nose, only an open vestibule, and his mouth seems quite flexible and expressive, currently pulled into a lopsided grin.

He appears to be a humanoid skeleton, wholly unlike any monsterfolk you’ve encountered before, despite having met plenty. And when he raises a huge hand to scratch at his jaw, _scritch scritch_ of bone on bone, your theory is confirmed by the thick, long phalanges and hollow metacarpals that compose his hand, impossibly animated and held together with the invisible power of magic. You know monsters aren’t necessarily biological, more like particles bound by that fantastical force which human science still can’t quite explain, so really any physical form is possible for a monsterfolk. Indeed, they are all very diverse in appearance...but exposed, human-looking bones are a new one to you.

“cat got yer tongue, li’l mouse?” he mutters, and his gruff words snap you back into the present moment.

“Oh, uh - last shower? Maybe, like...three days ago?” You almost can’t remember for a second, but you’re pretty sure you took a shower at the KOA on the north side of Lake Tahoe, which was near where you set up camp back then. You’re now hyper aware of the stink coming off your sweaty, unwashed body, blushing with embarrassment, subconsciously sniffing a little bit but picking up something else beyond your own gross body odor. Something spicy, and sweet, and herbal - familiar, but the identity of the scent escapes you for now. It’s heady, lovely and rich, and after a small moment you realize it’s radiating from the monsterfolk hovering over you.

_Woah...he smells **amazing.**_

It makes your blush deepen.

“heh, c’mon then, dirty girl,” he says through a low chuckle. “got a hot shower with yer name on it.”

And he winks a socket at you, like the bone of his skull face is made of polymer clay or something. It totally throws you for a loop and you just stand there gaping like a flabbergasted idiot until the sound of a door slamming shut snaps you out of your stupor and you realize he’s gotten into your camper van - _wait oh shit, why is he in my van?!_

“Sir? Ah, hahah, w-wait a sec,” you stutter, opening the driver side door to see him already settled into the opposite seat, massive frame hunched over just to keep the top of his head from scraping the ceiling, flipping through your flower guidebook with those crazy complex bone hands.

“name’s Sans, not _sir,_ but most ‘round here call me Basil,” he mutters without looking up at you, still glancing over glossy pages full of colorful botanical illustrations and photos. “get in. i’ll tell ya where ta go.”

Somehow you can’t even refuse his command, though your body feels like it has the weight of the world bearing down on it, muscles leaden and reluctant to move as you climb up into the driver’s seat and close the door. That warm herbal scent of him is filling the cab now, though you can’t complain. It’s incredible, intoxicating even.

_Aha, it’s the scent of basil, just like his nickname!_

_No wonder..._

“take this road two miles down ‘n turn right,” he instructs, tossing the booklet onto the dash and tipping his hat brim up, elbows resting on denim clad knees. His dark green and black plaid flannel shirt sleeves are rolled up halfway, and you note the bones of his forearms are distinctly thick, perfectly formed radii and ulnae, many small nicks and scratches marring their otherwise pearly surfaces. Without responding you put on your seatbelt, turn the ignition and head off down the two track, palms sweating profusely, but not from the heat of the van.

“what’s yer name, anyways?”

You’re hesitant to answer his casual question but after a tense moment do so, awkwardly stumbling over your own last name.

“heh, cute. think i like _li’l mouse_ better, though. it suits ya, sweetheart.”

“Really?” you ask, incredulous at his apparent flirtatious manner - _is he flirting?_ Maybe he’s just that kind of person who always sounds like they’re hitting on you, but is actually just nice and speaks in a colorful sort of way. You’ve encountered that mannerism in Kentucky before, where everyone calls you _sugar_ and _honey_ and _sweetie pie_ by default.

“yeah...heh, ‘n by the way yer lightin’ up so pretty ‘n pink, ya must really like it when i call ya li’l mouse, too.”

That hot blush returns with a vengeance and there’s no way to hide your darkened cheeks from his piercing gaze. From the way he quietly laughs you know he’s noticed. You’re definitely not used to being hit on.

The right turn soon comes and you take it as per his instructions, road widening into a more manicured gravel tract. Up ahead you spot a small house in the distance, two stories with white siding, red shutters and a matching red steel hundred year roof. There are several outbuildings and a barn that looks more for show than use, as its timbers are badly decayed and weathered, the whole thing leaning precariously. The place is quaint, much like the Midwestern farmhouses you know so well.

Then a thought strikes you - _how did he get all the way out to where I was? There was no vehicle passed by on the way…_

_Maybe he was already nearby? Walking the fields?_

But he’s so tall, at least seven feet if you had to guess. There’s no way you wouldn’t have seen him walking around out there.

_Huh…_

“home sweet home,” he mumbles as you pull up beside an old beater of a pickup truck, a real antique that probably still runs on gasoline, unlike your hybrid electric-magic rental van. For a second you contemplate just letting your strange new acquaintance get out and then attempt to drive off, but he seems relatively nice despite his appearances, and he did offer you a sorely needed hot shower. 

Also, you don’t get the sense he hates humans, as you feared earlier...something inside your gut tells you it’ll be okay to take him up on his offer. So you get out when he does, pop open the side door and grab your backpack before tentatively following him to the house. The screen door of the three season front porch squeaks on its hinges when he holds it open for you, like a gentleman, and your cheeks heat up for the third time that day, a nervous smirk on your lips. He holds the front door open for you too, and you nod in thanks, glancing around the space - it’s worn but clean, a bit sparse in furniture and decoration yet welcoming enough. The floors are oak plank, walls basic cream, old sofa and recliner both dark green and dining table set simple wood. 

The place smells like green herbs and sharp ozone, strangely enough, and something else, musky and heavy, but again the identity of it escapes you.

“bathroom’s upstairs ta the right.” He points to the nearby stairwell as he takes his hat off and sets it on the kitchen table. You nod again but pause for a moment, watching him saunter into the dim kitchen, open the old almond colored refrigerator there and pull out a can of cheap beer, which looks comically tiny in his gigantic bone hand.

“Actually, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is that flower you’re growing?”

Basil cracks the beer open and chugs it all in one go, partially crushing the can as he quickly drains its contents, then tosses it into the nearby sink once empty. Amazingly, no liquid falls out of his jaw or down his vertebral neck, your eyebrows raising in fascination at the feat.

“them’s golden buttercups, _buttercup,”_ he replies with a snarky grin. “ever heard a stardust? that’s where it comes from. ‘s a real _goldmine,_ a serious _cash crop,_ profits are _bloomin’,_ really brings in the _green,_ heh.”

You’ve heard of the drug, but of course never done it. For monsters stardust is like an opiate, sedative and pain relieving, taken as snorted powdered snuff like cocaine. But for humans it’s just straight up deadly poisonous. Even a tiny amount can kill an adult within minutes. In high school there was a whole drug prevention program that educated rural kids like you on it all, because meth and opiates had become such a widespread issue for the poor and working class humans there, while stardust and magic-infused alcohol had done the same to the monsterfolk.

“I thought stardust was illegal?” you muse, ignoring his puns, but Basil shakes his skull and smirks.

“only in certain states. here in Cali we can grow it all. weed, ‘cups, poppies, got a little somethin’ fer everyone, monster ‘n human alike - though maybe don’ mention them poppies ta anyone. heh heh heh.”

“So you...grow drugs for a living...”

He shrugs, nonchalant, huge hands upturned. “welcome ta paradise, sugar. jus’ livin’ the dream.”

With an understanding nod that belies your frantic internal monologue of _‘oh my god this guy is a legit drug lord what the actual hell’_ you slowly turn and head to the staircase, ascending it and easily finding the bathroom, where you flick the light on and make sure to lock the door behind you. It’s nice and clean too, if not a bit dated with its yellow linoleum floor and tan shower-tub. You waste no time figuring out how to work the shower and quickly strip once the water’s heating up, thankful and excited for the opportunity to get clean.

The warm water feels so heavenly and you help yourself to the unscented body wash sitting on the tub ledge, the only soap available - _so that strong scent of his is natural then. Interesting._ Monsterfolk do have noticeable natural scents, just like everything else living, but Basil’s is especially pungent. The memory of his slightly spicy essence makes your skin feel warmer than the water, but you shove the borderline licentious thought aside and get to work scrubbing the stink and grime away, wishing you had a washcloth but making due, taking far longer than you usually do just out of sheer enjoyment, right up until the hot water starts to run out.

Reluctantly you shut the shower faucet off with a _thunk_ and slide the plain white shower curtain aside, pluck the fluffy tan towel from its hanger and vigorously rub the moisture off your body. Once fairly dry you throw on the clean spare change of clothes you always keep in your backpack, a simple thin t-shirt, socks and capri leggings, having to forego underwear and a bra for now. Suddenly you realize you left your phone in the van and a small twinge of panic tugs at your chest, but you dismiss it, trying to keep your cool in the face of this bizarre turn of events.

You open the bathroom door to find the house eerily quiet, wondering if you’re alone, if Basil has gone out to do some work. There’s always something to be done on a farm, after all. With a small anxious huff you head down the hallway to go downstairs, set your backpack on the floor by the front door then slowly pad over to the kitchen, but it’s empty, a few more crumpled beer cans now in the sink. 

_What a weird habit…_

The sudden touch of something hard on your shoulder makes you jump a good inch off the ground and you smell that now familiar herbal aura directly behind you. _Shit, how the hell did he sneak up on me like that?!_ Trying to stay calm you take a fortifying breath and stand your ground, but are too intimidated to actually turn and face him.

“feel better?”

A nod is all you can manage as thanks and your breath catches when you sense him hunch over, bring his face down closer to yours.

“y’know, moment i laid sockets on ya, i wanted ta take ya, right then 'n there in that field a buttercups,” he softly mutters into your ear, the barest touch of his distals against your nape, brushing your damp hair aside. “ya looked so damn beautiful, prettier ‘n all them flowers...”

Rough phalanges come to rest upon your neck as his sweet, warm, spicy breath subtly huffs across your cheek, making your heart hammer and hands tremble. You can’t believe this is happening - _is this really happening right now? Is this monsterfolk man seriously coming on to me?_

_...did he just call me beautiful?_

A small whimper escapes your quivering lips as his sharp teeth graze along your tender neck, the hot vein there pumping hard. When his phalanges slide down your shoulder and give your upper arm a firm squeeze you tense, to which he growls low, other hand landing at your hip, giving it a subtle squeeze as well.

“don’ be shy, darlin’,” he purrs smoothly, something slick and tingling briefly running along your jugular, the strange sensation getting a gasp out of you. “ain’t gonna hurt ya. jus’ wanna have some fun is all. don’ that sound good?”

_Does it?_

_...yes and no?_

You’re so nervous and confused...

But when the hand at your hip trails up under the hem of your shirt, _you let it..._ you let this monsterfolk stranger feel the soft skin at the small of your waist, you let his wide mouth press into your nape, you let his phalanges carefully cup your breast and sigh at the intimate contact instead of pulling away, instead of saying no. His seductive words and gentle touches override the panic in your mind, the thrilling fear welling up in your soul, kindling a spark of desire in your belly instead.

You did have your heart set on finding adventure during this trip…

And this might be just about the craziest, most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done. Especially considering you can count the number of intimate encounters you’ve had on one hand. 

Only one hand.

_Without using all of your fingers._

So you turn your head and catch his mouth in an unsure kiss, surprising even yourself with the bold move, soft lips pressed to unyielding teeth and bone. Then those teeth part and his tongue flicks out to run across your lips, tingling and hot, surreal and unexpected. You glance down to see it’s vivid emerald green like his irises, translucent and dimly glowing - made of magic, no doubt, and the pleasant, faint herbal flavor of him hits your tastebuds. The sight and otherworldly feel of it sends your heart racing again. Considering he’s a skeleton, you didn’t think he’d have anything like that…

_Oh…_

_Oh my._

_What else can he do with his magic?_

You definitely want to find out.

“hmm...yer gonna need another shower after i’m done with ya, li’l mouse,” he whispers after pulling away, breaking off the kiss. His promise sends a shiver down your spine, as does his caress, bone hands running along your sides to barely tease his distal tips under the waistband of your leggings, then back up the plane of your abdomen to tenderly cup each bare breast, gently massaging the sensitive mounds.

You melt under his touch, leaning back to rest your head against his flannel padded ribs. One hand leaves your chest to snake beneath your leggings, distal tips easily finding your clit and stroking light circles over it, the texture of his bone only adding to the delicious stimulation. You groan and whimper, slightly parting your legs to give him better access, but just when you expect him to go further he instead withdraws both hands, much to your disappointment.

“ready, darlin’?”

Before you can even comprehend what he’s asking his big strong arms sweep you up into a bridal carry and he heads to the stairs, grinning like mad down at your surprised expression and silly giggling.

“Woah - oh my god!” you whoop, clinging to the thick fabric of his flannel shirt, playfully kicking your legs and laughing around his quick kisses the whole way upstairs. With a chuckle he carries you down the hall, kicks open the second door to the right into a dim room, gives you one more kiss before carefully laying you upon an unmade bed saturated in his scent. He crawls up over you, hands planted at either side of your head and patellas at your calves, dilated eyelights taking in your prone, helpless form beneath him, so much smaller than he.

There is a fleeting moment of breathless silence, the two of you simply gazing at each other in an unspoken mutual agreement before Basil quickly grabs at the bottom hem of your shirt and tugs at it. You eagerly assist, yanking the shirt up over your head and tossing it away, your fingers next finding the buttons of his flannel and swiftly working each undone, revealing thick clavicles and manubrium peeking out from the loose collar of his stained white cotton undershirt, visible bones covered in nicks and cracks and scars. He shrugs the flannel away and sinks down to drag his absolutely miraculous tongue across your neck and collarbone, down between your breasts, pausing to tease at your nipples with languid swirls, gliding all the way to your pelvis, leaving behind a hot tingling trail of plasmodium on your shivering skin.

His sharp teeth bite down on the hem of your leggings and he firmly pulls at it with a mock snarl, getting more giggles from you, before he brings his hands to the crests of your pelvic bones, a gruff demanding growl reverberating his ribcage. With a knowing smile your fingertips meet his distals, threading between his phalanges and following along as your pants are pulled down and away, wiggling your hips for good measure. His tongue laps along your slit, once, twice, finding you’re already slick with excitement, the vibration of his moan further adding fuel to your burning lustful desire.

You’re at the mercy of this total stranger, someone you met not two hours ago. Yet instead of feeling ashamed or nervous as would be typical in this kind of moment, something inspires you to stretch your arms above your head, make a small contented sigh and grin in an obvious invitation, feeling strangely relaxed, usual protective emotional barriers somehow dissolved. The reaction it gets from Basil is oddly satisfying, his verdant eyelights dilating wide as they sweep across your naked body laid out on display, just for him. 

“damn, yer gorgeous,” he breathes, staring into your half-lidded eyes, and his genuine compliment flusters you far more than being stripped, unused to such sweet flattery.

Eagerly your hands find his jeans fly, never breaking his gaze, popping the brass button and slowly pulling open the zipper. He lets you go as slow as you like, only smiling as the jeans are pulled down from his pelvis, springing free his conjured magic cock, glowing bright against the dim ambient light filtering in through partially closed blinds.

When you realize what you’ve revealed a reflexive gasp escapes your parted lips, marveling at its brilliant shimmering form. How ethereal and bizarre it is, thick and fitting to his large stature, humming with raw energy, shaft rooted at his symphysis and twitching in anticipation just like a fleshy, organic muscle, though its smooth surface is devoid of humanistic details.

He shimmies out of the jeans, kicking them away and using his femurs to coax your thighs apart. You willingly drape your legs around his pelvis and thread your fingers through his sturdy ribs once he removes his t-shirt but you make a worried whimper, gaze locked on the spectral cock dipping down to rest against your mound.

_It's so big...it’s going to hurt..._

“ya scared?” he asks, hesitating at the precipice, sounding genuine in his apparent concern stemming from your tense demeanor. When you nod in acknowledgement his browbones furrow and he smiles, a gentle, reassuring smile, bone thumb brushing over your flushed cheek. “don’ worry sweetheart, i gotcha, ain’t gonna hurt. i promise.”

Basil rolls his pelvis, aiming the blunt tip to catch on your entrance and press forward, filling you up with his incredible magic, inch by girthy inch, surprisingly not the painful stretch or stinging friction you thought it would be. Rather the slick, glassine texture of him combined with your own excited wetness ensures he smoothly glides in despite his size, and the warm, tingling, effervescent sensation from the magic quells any ache you might otherwise have experienced. You moan out when the tip reaches your limit, him being careful not to press in any further, a good third of his length still unable to fit inside.

“ah darlin’, ya feel fuckin’ _incredible,”_ he growls, barely pulling out before sliding back in, testing the waters. When you moan lustily again he smirks and repeats the motion, pulling out a little further each time, until he’s set a steady, moderate pace of deep thrusting that feels intensely perfect, one big hand holding your hip in place while the other is on the mattress above your head to steady him.

“You feel - _ah!_ \- amazing too, so good,” you praise through gasps, clinging tighter to his ribs as he starts to go faster, apparently encouraged by your compliment.

“yeah, and who’s makin’ ya feel so good, huh?” he asks with a sultry tone, and his unexpected dirty talk makes your inner walls clench.

“Y - you are,” you reply sheepishly, having no experience in such lewd things, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“c’mon sugar, say my name, i wanna hear you _scream_ it,” he demands, and when he roughly jerks forward and hits your cervix you cry out _“Basil!”_ just like he wanted. He does it again, looking satisfied when you shout his name once more, grinning wide. “mmm, nobody else can make ya feel this good, ain’t that right?”

“No, nobody else, only you, _oh my god only you!”_

His rhythm ramps up, becoming nearly savage as he pounds you into the mattress, now fucking you with abandon and being far less careful, forcefully slamming into you, repeatedly hitting that sensitive limit but the pain that should be there is mercifully numbed. Soon his own rumbling moans join your desperate cries and you lose yourself completely to the animalistic act, clawing at his ribcage, head tossed back in ecstasy, eyes shut tight, climax rapidly building, mind delirious with the incredible pleasure of it all.

“Yes, please yes, yes, please, _Basil, please!”_ you pant, unsure what you’re even begging for, high voice punctuated by each quick impact.

“ya want it that bad, huh? want me ta fill up yer sweet li’l pussy with my cum?”

_**“Yes!”** _

“then take it, ah fuck, _take it!”_

At the very second you feel his cock throb inside you his mouth collides with yours in a rough, hungry kiss, the flood of his blazing magic combined with his sparking tongue sending a massive head rush straight to your brain. So strong is the tidal wave of energy that you briefly white out, phosphine lights bursting behind your tightly closed eyelids, abruptly thrown into a state of limbo, weightless, thoughtless, adrift in an otherworldly sea of ecstasy. There is a blooming, surging heat in your chest that spreads outward to every extremity, meeting and mingling with the molten honey pooling in your core, creeping up along your spine, coursing through your veins, gradually settling into your marrow.

Though you did not reach your own peak, _per se,_ the intense effect of your lover’s climax on your body is unreal, something far beyond any orgasm you’ve experienced. Seconds seem to stretch on for an eternity, each powerful pulse of his cum renewing your impassioned delirium, that heat behind your sternum burning white-hot, sweaty skin feverish and flushed.

_Need more...need **m o r e…**_

The indistinct but powerful urge for something unknown, undefined churns within your soul, your sense of need and longing so strong it physically aches, and like a woman possessed you cry out and whine and beg for it without words, grasping at his sternum and arching your spine in an attempt to press your chest to his.

“not yet, angel, not yet,” you hear Basil speak from what must be a hundred miles away, through a heavy fog. At his cryptic denial the fire in your chest gradually subsides, the haze of pleasure ebbs and lifts, muddled mind pulled into the present reality of your new lover tightly embracing your trembling body against his own unyielding form, voice like an anchor bringing you back down to earth from the heavens. 

When your eyes flutter open the first thing you see is his beautiful irises, still dilated wide, gazing at you with unfettered adoration - you can feel his affection radiating out, like a cloud of emotional static. You’re now laying on your side, facing him, wrapped up in his hard arms. His magic has since dispelled, leaving you sadly empty, skin sticky and hot between your thighs, though the residual tingle of him is still there inside you, magic permeating your whole body.

“Um...wow…” you breathe, awestruck, shaking slightly. It feels like you just did an intense workout, muscles sore and legs jelly. His sharp smile hitches and he makes a pleased sound, strokes his distals through your mussed hair and presses his mouth to the top of your head before nuzzling his face down into the crook of your neck.

Then the logical side of your brain suddenly realizes the light at the single window has grown dim and golden, signaling that late afternoon has come.

_It’s been that long…?_

Slight panic tugs at your gut and you try to move away, but Basil only pulls you in closer with a soft growl, preventing your escape.

“I should probably take that second shower,” you explain, voice weak, “get going before dark - “

“stay.”

A brief pause and you smirk, head tilting, unsure of what he’s suggesting.

“You mean like...stay the night?”

“stay tonight...” his teeth delicately nip your shoulder, “...’n tomorrow night...” another light nip, further down, “...’n ev’ry night after that.”

The meaning behind his words slowly sinks in as he trails affectionate bites down your arm. You’re silent for a long while, disbelief muddling your thoughts. 

_He can’t be serious._

“I - I don’t - what?” you finally stammer, terribly confused. “We don’t even know each other - I have a full time job, in a different state, and a townhouse and - !”

Your rushed babbling is silenced by his tender, gentle, passionate kiss, bone hand cupping your cheek, tongues languidly dancing together.

_It feels so…_

_...good…_

_And...so right..._

Warmth blossoms in your chest again and for a moment all those other parts of your life seem insignificant when compared to this feeling, this unfamiliar swell of emotion within your soul induced by his intimate contact, like if you could just stay here in bed with him forever, held in his strong arms, surrounded by his heady magic, you could truly die happy. 

_Like nothing else even matters._

When he pulls away your brain snaps back to reason - _I can’t stay here! I have to get back home in a week…a thousand miles away..._

“stay,” he implores again, lustrous voice so loving it makes your soul ache.

“But like I said, my job - “

“quit.”

“ - and my house - “

“sell it.”

“Wha - no! I can’t just suddenly drop everything and cancel my whole life! That’s - that's crazy!”

“souls can be crazy things,” he calmly counters, but you’re unsure of what he’s getting at. 

Souls?

_What about my soul?_

_What is he saying?_

“tryna save us some pain...’cuz the minute i let ya leave, we’ll both regret it.” Basil props himself up on an elbow, cheekbone resting in hollow palm, free hand alighting upon your décolleté. “i know ya feel it too, sweetheart. humans got a term for it - love at first sight.” That heat surges stronger in your chest, right under his phalanges. “but us monsters call it findin’ yer _soulmate.”_

You glance aside and shake your head at the term soulmate, finding it both absurd and intimidating. Of course you know about the concept, but even most monsterfolk talk about it sarcastically, like meeting one’s soulmate is akin to some urban legend or fairytale. _'I don’t have a soulmate, I’m sure of it,'_ you’ve heard on a few occasions from melancholy monsters who have failed in love. So why, or even _how,_ would you of all people have one?

“That’s…impossible.”

“no it ain’t,” Basil snips insistently, glaring down at you with renewed intensity, eyelights contracting. “why d’ya think ya said yes ta me so quick, huh? big scary monster brings a sweet, helpless li’l human female home, but she don’ run away, nah. ‘stead she lets ‘im bone her, jus’ like that.” He snaps his distals, which make a small green spark. “it’s ‘cuz yer body and soul needed it, ‘n mine did too.”

“But I’m - and you’re - we can’t - “

_It doesn’t work that way between humans and monsters...right?_

“yer soul don’t care what i am, or what ya are, or if we’re _different,”_ he growls, clearly irritated at your fumbled protest. “souls ain’t never wrong. yer mind can be _wrong,_ all the racist bullshit ya were raised on is _wrong,_ ‘n hell, mosta the whole damn world is _fucked up and wrong._ but this,” his distals press into your chest, “this ain’t wrong. it’s the most right thing ya can ever have.”

He leans down to briefly kiss you again, distals pressing harder against your ribs and sternum, almost painful, overbearing.

“so stay with me.”

You search his eyelights for answers but find none other than what he’s demanding - for you to stay with him, desire nearly tangible just from his vivid gaze.

“imma keep askin’ ‘til ya say yes,” he teases, sinking down to pepper your neck with hard kisses, hand leaving your chest to playfully pinch at your ticklish waist, getting a surprised laugh out of you.

“Basil, c’mon, there’s no way - !”

“stay with me.”

He nips your earlobe and you yelp but also giggle at his ridiculous behavior.

“Basil, _nooo,”_ you helplessly whine around more laughs as his distals prod your ribs - _he’s relentless!_

“Basil _yes,”_ he growls playfully, catching your smiling mouth in another quick kiss, then another, tongue flicking out to meet yours.

“I gotta - _mmm…”_

A deeper kiss cuts your protest short, renewing that wonderful feeling of pure bliss within your soul.

“ya gotta stay here.”

“That’s not…”

His big hand grips your ass, encompassing an entire cheek and he rolls back onto his spine, easily bringing you along to lay atop his ribcage, breasts pressed to bones, his distals raking your hair back, metacarpals cradling your face as his piercing bright emerald eyelights gaze into the core of your very existence.

“jus’ say yes. i know ya wanna.”

“I…”

You should tell him _'I can’t,'_ but for some reason the words just won’t come out, and the thought of saying them out loud makes tears well up in your wide eyes.

“...please, darlin’...please.”

His plea is so gentle and sad sounding that you might just cry after all.

Then there’s a loud _**SLAM**_ from downstairs that makes you startle, and you quickly gasp “What the hell was that?!”

But Basil just closes his sockets, huffs a sigh and gently rolls you off him. With one last quick peck to your forehead he sits up and reluctantly gets out of bed to throw on some random clothing that he picks up off the floor.

 _“SANS! SANS, WHERE ARE YOU?! WHY IS THERE AN UNFAMILIAR VEHICLE IN OUR DRIVEWAY?!”_ shouts a loud, grating voice.

_Someone else is here..._

“Basil, who, what?” you ask again, nervous and a little scared. _Who is this other person?_

“stay here,” Basil grumbles without explanation, and to your shock and amazement he quite literally disappears in a blink, only leaving behind a small _pop_ of air displacement and the sharp smell of ozone.

You can hear him speak after a moment and the other, higher male voice replies. Though you can’t quite pick up the discussion, they sound none too pleased, arguing, and Basil raises his tone slightly, sounding dangerously angry. Suddenly it falls eerily silent and you strain to listen…

_“WE’LL SEE ABOUT THAT!”_

_“Papyrus, don’t even - “_

_thump Thump THUMP **THUMP**_

Someone’s coming up the stairs and you get the feeling it’s not Basil. You panic and scramble to find your clothes, managing to scrounge up your leggings and hastily pull them on then grab whatever shirt is closest on the floor. Well, it must be one of Basil’s, because you’re absolutely swimming in it...and it’s definitely not clean.

You finish just in the nick of time as the door swings open and slams against the wall with a deafening _**BANG**_. Simultaneously Basil magically reappears, standing between you and whoever is stooping down to get through the doorway. When they rise up to their full incredible height - if the ceiling wasn’t pitched, surely his skull would hit it - you can see that they’re another skeleton-looking monsterfolk, all sharp angles, big fang teeth and a long scar running across one narrowed socket. And those empty, lightless sockets are peering straight at you - you can practically feel them trying to burn an angry hole right through your soul.

“A _HUMAN?!_ YOU MUST BE JOKING - “

The very, _very_ tall monsterfolk tries to step around Basil but he blocks the way, a warning growl rumbling from his ribs. You crawl backward on the bed, shaking like a leaf, terrified and feeling extremely threatened.

“ain’t no joke, Papyrus. she’s my mate.”

“I AM NOT AMUSED, BROTHER! AND I ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT ALLOW THIS! GET RID OF HER IMMEDIATELY!”

“no.”

“What Did You Just Say?”

“did i fuckin’ stutter? i said _no.”_

_Oh god, oh Jesus, please don’t fight!_

_Especially not because of me!_

“SANS - !”

“either she stays, or we both go!” booms out Basil, fists clenched, stone steady, unwavering. The aura of the room shifts from tense heated aggression to deadly cold quiet, as if the air pressure has increased, the force of gravity itself multiplying, rooting you to the spot - you don’t think you could make a run for it even if you tried with every ounce of willpower you possess in your soul. 

The long silence between them is suffocating, broken only by the crackle and hum of powerful magic, as if the two skeletons are sizing each other up with invisible dueling forces instead of more words. You dare not make a sound or move an iota, caught up in something beyond your conscious understanding, every fiber of your being screaming out an instinctive warning to _stay absolutely still, don’t even breathe._

Just as quickly as it came the immense pressure evaporates in an instant, Papyrus taking a small step back, posture relaxing but almost imperceptibly, yielding to Basil. A ragged breath fills your burning lungs and your sore muscles partially relax, though you’re still shaking.

“We’ll Discuss This Later,” hisses Papyrus, giving you one last hard stare before leaving the room, gently closing the door behind him. There’s now a round hole in the drywall from the doorknob smashing into it.

Basil lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh. His entire body slumps as he wipes a hand down his face and shakes his skull.

“sorry ‘bout that,” he mutters, turning to give you a forlorn look that begs your forgiveness. “ ‘s my brother, Papyrus. he ain’t too fond a humans.”

“I - I can tell,” you manage to stutter out, though your voice is little more than a hoarse whisper. Basil’s browbones knit together and he rushes to you, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms and holding you way too tightly against his big barrel chest, knocking the air from your lungs.

“ah shit, darlin’, don’ worry, ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to ya, we’ll work everythin’ out - “

_“Hurk_ \- Basil, too hard - !“

He suddenly realizes you're struggling and eases up his embrace with a sheepish grin as you gasp and cough, able to properly breathe once more.

“heh, yer so delicate...”

“No - _huff_ \- you’re just a ginormous monster!”

“guilty as charged,” he admits with what sounds like a hint of pride, and you can’t help but laugh despite the overwhelming stress of the last few hours. _What a damn roller coaster ride!_

“Okay, we need to talk, we definitely need to talk,” you demand, going limp and resting your dewy forehead against his clothed ribs, suddenly feeling beyond exhausted on every level.

“it can wait,” he quietly replies, setting you back down on his bed and laying beside you once again, distals absentmindedly stroking your arm. You’re a bit irritated by him brushing aside your need to discuss everything and weakly smack his sternum in annoyance.

“No, come on Basil, this is crazy, what am I even doing here? Why do I feel so mixed up? And your brother obviously hates me, I should really go, this is all just so - “

 _“stop,”_ he snaps, and you clam up. “told ya, we’re soulmates. ain’t nothin’ else to it. we were made for each other. don’ matter who says what.”

“So that’s...it?” you gently question, hesitant, afraid of saying something that’ll upset him, a fresh twinge of fear tugging at your soul. “I’m just...staying? And we’re gonna…?”

It’s almost too much to think about, even the logistics of it all incredibly overwhelming and surreal - your entire life has been turned upside down in a single afternoon. Basil’s irritation falters into pity and he gives your arm a reassuring squeeze, eyelights softening around the edges.

“darlin’, i can’t promise it’ll always be easy,” he whispers, the slightest hint of bitterness to his tone, “but i can tell ya right now, i’d do anythin’ for ya. now that fate’s brought us together, nothin’ can keep us apart, not even the devil ‘imself. i’d go ta hell ‘n back ta protect yer soul. so if ya ever leave, i’ll follow ya ta the ends a the damned earth, ‘til i dust.”

His confession stuns you into silence. The reasonable side of you wants to scoff, to deny it all, to refuse everything and walk away...but deep down in your soul, the truth and sincerity of his words rings out, clear as a church bell at noon.

_As unbelievable, fantastical, impossible as it is..._

_This monsterfolk man is my **soulmate.**_

So instead of shaking your head you nod, and grin, and blush, and curl up against him, clinging to his ribs through the thin cotton shirt, quietly laughing though you’re not sure why, feeling instead like you want to cry, a few hot salty tears leaking from your tightly shut eyes. Basil shushes and soothes you with a gentle hug, rubbing the small of your back, resting his mouth on your hair and breathing in your scent.

“ ‘s alright,” he mutters into your scalp, sweet breath so warm. “i know it’s a lot...tell ya what. go ‘n take that second shower, ‘n i’ll fix ya up somethin’ ta eat. sound good?”

You whimper and nod again, and with a quick peck to the top of your head Basil gets up and disappears, leaving you to slowly gather your wits, still reeling from the shock of it all, dizzy and drained. 

For a long while you just blankly stare at the window, look around at the messy room without really seeing anything, racing thoughts turned inward. Staying seems like a crazy idea. But it also feels... _incredible._ Like there’s endless potential here, like it really is destiny being fulfilled.

_No...that really is crazy…that’s what it is…_

“Ugh…”

_What am I even waiting for?_

_I should get out of here while I still can!_

_...right?_

...

What will you do?

**Author's Note:**

> Want this to become a longer story? If enough people show interest, I'll add further chapters and make this into a slice of life fic. Maybe Basil wants to start a family...maybe reader does try to run off... ✧/ᐠᵕᆽΦᐟ\
> 
> Let me know in the comments.
> 
> Edit: I am now writing more chapters for this fic. However it will take a few weeks, as I do not publish anything that is incomplete. Stay tuned.


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